


Chains and Mirrors

by AngeNoir



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (not quite Master/slave but nearing it), Arousal from obedience, Asphyxiation, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Bondage, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Obedience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-05
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-18 01:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian is Jim's instrument, and he enjoys it - even when Jim orders something for Sebastian that Sebastian hates. The fact that Jim gets off on the fact that Sebastian hates it and yet Jim can still wring orgasms from his tiger, makes for an interesting session, to say the least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chains and Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [(also known as atrickstertype on tumblr)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%28also+known+as+atrickstertype+on+tumblr%29), [vocal_bard (atrickstertype)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atrickstertype/gifts).



> For the prompt from atrickstertype:  
> Seb will do anything for Jim, even if he doesn't like it/get off on it. Jim likes that a lot.
> 
> I don't know if I did what you wanted. I'm sorry. o.o;;

Sebastian unlocked the flat and let himself in, closing the door quietly behind himself and dropping the keys on the small table. By the table, he undid the ties on his work boots and took them off, leaving himself sock-footed and silent as he made his way from the small hallway to the front room. Seeing Jim’s posture, he realized it was one of _those_ nights immediately. After all, living around Jim, you learned quickly to read his moods, anticipate his requests, and stay out of his way on the really bad days. This wasn’t a really bad day, but it was… definitely not one of his good days.

“My tiger, how prompt you are!” Jim purred from where he was standing at the window, staring out at London. Sebastian had received the text demanding his presence, but there had been nothing in it to give away Jim’s mood, nothing that said he’d be facing this. Then again, he supposed it really was a toss-up, nowadays – what with Jim so focused on his nemesis, on playing games with this Holmes fellow, his moods swung from playfully cruel to brutally rough instead of the ingeniously torturous but still fairly acceptable mood he normally showcased. Personally, of these two new moods, Sebastian preferred the brutally rough periods; he enjoyed slamming Jim against walls, or bending over and letting Jim take him viciously. Pain mixed with his pleasure was heady, a natural high that he willingly gave himself over to time after time.

This, though. This was nothing short of terrifying, a fear that he could not get over. He hated it, and none of this did anything but up his anxiety and messed with his nerves.

On the plus side, though, it meant that Jim didn’t have need of his particular skill set for tomorrow.

“You called, boss,” he said, voice deferential as always. Jim was dressed in a suit, of course – he always was. Sebastian was a working class man: rough trousers, white shirt-sleeves that were dirty at the cuffs and elbows, a brown vest stained from gun oil and scarred from the types of wear and tear he put it through. He was taller than Jim, of course, but somehow Jim always made him feel small. He owed this man his life, his livelihood, and would do anything for him.

A fact that Jim took advantage of mercilessly, over and over again, for Jim’s amusement and pleasure.

“Yes, yes I did,” Jim sighed, turning around to look at Sebastian. His upper lip curled in a half-hearted sneer. “Really, Sebastian, I expect a certain standard from my employees. You look like you rolled out of a dumpster.”

Instead of explaining that Jim’s text had come in the midst of an activity that did not lend towards cleanliness and well-groomed clothing (there was only so much one could do to keep blood off in the first place; a scuffle was bound to mess up the line of suit at the very least), Sebastian glanced around the room, searching for – ah. There it was. He deliberately kept himself from shuddering, but when his eyes traveled back to Jim’s, there was a reptilian fascination there, a child’s vicious pleasure, which let Sebastian know Jim had seen him looking, and had seen his disgust and distaste, and enjoyed seeing it.

“I assume you know exactly why I called you. You looked for it, after all. Eager?” Jim asked, sauntering over from the window.

Sebastian didn’t look back over at it, to see if there were other ‘toys’ that would make it that much worse (his eyes had only sought out its specific shape; he wasn’t half as good as Jim at taking everything in at a quick glance), and instead watched those dark eyes, that upward twist of those thin lips, the black hair slicked back. Of course, Jim wasn’t one to give away intentions by facial tics or tells. Still, there were times his boss deliberately gave away his intention to see if Sebastian could catch it.

This was, apparently, not one of those times.

Instead, Jim came to a stop in front of Sebastian, head tilted slightly up, everything poised, still. Sebastian didn’t move for a long moment, until a nearly imperceptible tilt of Jim’s head had him, like a bird hypnotized by a cobra, sinking to his knees. Not gracefully; god knows Sebastian could be graceful when the situation called for it, but he was in the middle of Jim’s flat, not a battle situation, and so his knees hit with a muffled thud and it took him a moment to situate himself to Jim’s liking – knees spread a bit, hands clasped behind his back loosely, head tilted to meet Jim’s gaze.

Jim took a long, measuring look before strolling over to the desk where the hated collar rested. “Strip,” he said quietly, and Sebastian obeyed, removing vest, shirtsleeves, unbuckling his trousers and shifting to wiggle them and his pants past his knees. When he was done, he folded each piece of clothing meticulously and placed them on the nearest flat surface (the seat of the armchair, this time).

Looking up, Jim was standing in front of him, holding the collar, and Jim’s eyes were dark, hot and heavy with things unspoken. “My tiger…” he repeated, almost fondly, even as he bent down slightly to wrap the thick band of leather around Sebastian’s throat.

And for all that Sebastian _hated_ this part of it, for all that Sebastian didn’t enjoy this action at all, he tilted his head back, let his eyes fall half-closed, because _Jim_ wanted it, and that was enough for Sebastian, really.

This pleased Jim. Who was Sebastian, to deny Jim his pleasures?

Jim moved around to behind Sebastian, twisting the collar so that it could be fastened from behind, and Sebastian resigned himself for one of the really rough nights. The collar pressed uncomfortably tight against his throat, covering almost all space between his jaw and his shoulders, and it made it difficult to swallow.

“You should see yourself, Sebby,” Jim murmured, and those long fingers carded through Sebastian’s short haircut, scratching at the scalp. The touch made Sebastian shudder; his head was an extremely sensitive part of his body, and against his will his cock gave an interested half-twitch – especially when Jim ran his fingers down from Sebastian’s hair, danced lightly over the line of the collar, before following Sebastian’s spine down to just mid-rib range. “All pale, scarred, bare, except for this blackness wrapped around your throat. Such a pretty tiger, mine,” he continued, but he stepped away and moved towards the door that led to the bedroom. “Come along.”

Knowing that he hadn’t been given permission to stand, Sebastian debated whether he should shuffle around on his knees or go to all fours, but Jim liked it when Sebastian crawled. He dropped down – he didn’t particularly care one way or the other about the undignified position, as Jim had found out almost at the beginning of their relationship (it was just that collar that pressed against his windpipe, a claustrophobic, clawing feeling of restricted breathing that made it difficult to think rationally _stop thinking about it_ ) – and moved on all fours after Jim into the bedroom.

Jim had stopped to pick up the other toys (Sebastian catalogued them, and there was nothing too bad, things he might even find pleasurable if he could ignore the collar around his throat) and gestured for Sebastian to move to the other side of the bed—

Where a mirror had been set up. A gold-edged mirror, clean, set on the ground. Maybe about six and a half feet tall, resting between the bed and the wall farthest from the front room.

Sebastian glanced at Jim, and then at the mirror, before mentally shrugging and moving over to the reflective object. Once there, he saw coiled chains and paused.

“Up on your knees, tiger,” Jim said, voice suddenly loud in the otherwise silent house. The bedroom wasn’t even near to the street – there were no outside noises, nothing but what Sebastian could hear over his own elevated heartbeat. Slowly, he moved to his knees, his side to the mirror, until he saw Jim twirling his finger and he shuffled so that he was fully facing the mirror, his back to Jim. Jim came over to stand behind Sebastian, his groin hidden by Sebastian’s head in the mirror. Those spindly fingers came to rest on Sebastian’s shoulder, the first two curling to press against the black leather collar.

“We’re going to do things a bit differently, Seb,” Jim began, reaching over for one of the chains. As Sebastian had expected, it was a leash, one that Jim clipped at the base of Sebastian’s skull, where the collar closed. Letting the chain fall down to brush against Sebastian’s spine and back (Sebastian shivered a little), Jim squatted down, resting his chin on Sebastian’s shoulders. His hand slid down Sebastian’s chest, pausing to flick at the nipple, before slipping down to cup Sebastian’s half-interested cock. “Let’s leave this, hmm? Don’t want you too eager, after all.”

Sebastian swallowed and felt the press of his Adam’s apple against the leather. Jim liked the fact that Sebastian didn’t get hard, would get hard _because_ Sebastian did not. It was a dynamic that wasn’t normal in any sense of the word, but Sebastian killed people for money and Jim devised plots to kill people for money, so they weren’t normal in the first place.

It wasn’t as if Sebastian would wish to be elsewhere. He could think of nothing else he’d rather be, no one else he’d rather be with, but his boss, no matter what his boss wanted.

Shifting to the side (Jim was always so prepared, everything needed lined up and waiting, every reaction expected and planned for) Jim took a ball stretcher and wrapped it at the base of Sebastian’s balls, snapping it closed. Immediately, there was pressure on Sebastian’s balls (must be weighted; Jim always did like to delay Sebastian’s orgasm for as long as possible) and he shifted, eyes involuntarily traveling down where the black leather bracketed his cock. He could almost pretend this was a normal session, if he didn’t swallow too frantically and remind himself of the collar’s presence.

Next came black and silver clamps (Jim had an obsession about putting black on Sebastian, perhaps because Sebastian was so fair-haired and fair-skinned) on Sebastian’s nipples, and a spreader bar that was attached to Sebastian’s ankles. Everything up to that point had been clinical, Jim setting up the scene and Sebastian allowing himself to be moved and manhandled and manipulated in any way that Jim saw fit, but once the spreader bar was in place (uncomfortably wide, but Sebastian liked the idea of being opened up, ready, of presenting himself to Jim, and okay, maybe it had been clinical for Jim but Sebastian was definitely approaching full hardness), Jim moved back over to the chains.

“I’m not going to choke you this time, tiger,” he purred, and there was a definite bulge at Jim’s crotch as he stepped past Sebastian to lift up the length of chain. “You’re going to choke yourself, and you’ll be completely unable to stop. Let’s see how far we can go.”

He then proceeded to take the chain-link leash he had attached to Sebastian’s collar and used the end to wrap Sebastian’s wrists together, fastening the chain with some mechanical device (Sebastian only heard a click, and considering that the mirror was placed only so that Sebastian could see himself and not so that he could see behind him, he didn’t get to look at what Jim had used), and then tugged lightly. There was enough length of the leash that, even with his hands resting at the small of his back, his hands weren’t tugging the leash and tightening the choke collar. But then Jim took the second length of chain, fastening it to an eyehook near the top of the mirror that Sebastian hadn’t noticed, threading it under the leash, and then fastened the other end to an identical eyehook on the other side. The chain would have made a U shape, if not for the fact that the leash pulled it tight, making a V, making it difficult for Sebastian to breathe unless he leaned forward, putting more of his weight on his knees. Jim’s eyes flashed with arousal.

Now Sebastian understood the point of it. As it was, the choke collar could be tugged tighter against his throat by pulling on the leash – and Jim had put Sebastian on all fours before and used the leash as reins, pulling Sebastian back onto his cock – but instead of hanging loose the leash was wrapped around his arms. The second chain was what would exert the pressure – Sebastian would have to lean forward, which would thrust his arse out and open and put him closer to the mirror but not close enough to lean on it, in order to keep the second chain loose enough that he didn’t choke himself (and Sebastian hated the choking, hated the feeling, the sensation of losing air, the experience of _dying_ ). But lean too far forward, let his body rest too much, and he’d exert pressure anyway, and choke himself that way. He’d have to balance, use his abdominal and thigh muscles, to keep himself from moving too far back or too far forward.

It was a test of his endurance, one he knew Jim was going to try and make him lose.

His swallow was a convulsive thing, something that reminded him of the presence of the collar and something that reminded him to lean a bit more forward, and Jim let out a breathless laugh. “There, you understand now, tiger,” he said, and his voice was at that high point that indicated intense arousal, fast and short and high-pitched. “Keep yourself level, mmm? I won’t touch the chains, I won’t wrap my hands around your lovely neck, I’ll just watch you in the mirror, watch your arms tremble, your chest bob down and bob back up, watch you rock on your knees as I prepare you, and maybe if you’re very good and don’t fall, don’t pass out, I’ll undo the collar and let you come. You would like that, after all, wouldn’t you?” He stepped forward, running fingers against Sebastian’s sides, tracking the pattern of the scars and dipping against the slight happy trail, a much lighter blond than Sebastian’s hair so it was nearly invisible in the mirror. Of course, most of that was probably due to the fact that, by leaning forward, Sebastian was partially obscuring his own reflection and throwing into shadow the rest of it.

He closed his eyes as he heard the click of the lube, and clever fingers slipped into his arse, running immediately over his prostrate. He let out a gasp, rocking back into it – and the chains pulled tight, cutting off his air. Immediately he leaned forward again, gasping for air, eyes flying open to stare at the mirror that was too far away to fog up from his breath but close enough that a faint misting happened, softening the area around his face ever so slightly.

And in the mirror, he could see Jim’s eyes, avid and malicious and _perfect_.

Jim began to thrust his fingers into Sebastian, and it was difficult to keep from rocking back, hard to keep still, hard to keep his upper body level and not put any pressure on the intertwined chains that would choke him, but it wasn’t like Jim was making it easy on Sebastian. He had gotten down on his knees behind Sebastian (still dressed in his suit; Sebastian loved it when he was naked and Jim was fully clothed) and the soft fabric of his pants brushed the back of Sebastian’s thighs, and despite himself Sebastian was getting hard, what with the prostrate stimulation and the inexorable stretching that meant Jim was going to fuck Sebastian soon. Sebastian couldn’t stop the soft gasps and moans as three fingers pumped into him, and he leaned forward too much, almost overbalancing and falling forward – only the chains pulled him tight and his air was abruptly cut off, tight pressure around his windpipe that had his eyes flying open, staring at himself in shock in the mirror as his throat convulsively tried to bring in a gulp of air and failed to do anything more than wheeze.

“Ohh, _yess_ ,” Jim gasped, and there was a hurried motion behind him, Jim doing something, even as Sebastian realized he’d have to push _off_ of the collar to get balanced again, further constricting his breathing, to the point where he might be unable to breathe at all.

A zip behind him, hard fingers gripping his waist, and then Jim _shoved_ into Sebastian, forcing him back down again, and Sebastian weakly gasped, mouth working furiously. This, _this_ , is what he hated about asphyxiation – the giddy feeling, the entrapment, the feeling that he should be able to breathe and yet nothing was happening, nothing was working. His hands clenched and unclenched behind his back as he fought to rebalance himself, but if it had been hard before while Jim had been preparing him, it was that much harder with Jim’s cock dragging inside, stretching him and filling him and _distracting_ him – because yes, he hated choking, yes, he hated being unable to breathe, but the very _act_ of asphyxiation encouraged an erection. Couple that with Jim’s cock, slick and wet and so very, very hard, Jim fucking Sebastian just the way that Sebastian enjoyed, and Sebastian was both aroused and terrified at once.

Finally, he managed to get back on his knees correctly, and at least this wasn’t the collar that, once tightened, stayed tight – this collar loosened when he rebalanced, and he took in sucking gasps of air, so loud in the relative silence of the room, the pounding in Sebastian’s ears preventing him from hearing the squelch and slap of Jim’s thighs against the back of Sebastian’s own. The gasps only drove Jim higher, of course, because Jim liked to hear that, and Jim groaned behind him, fucking hard and deep into Sebastian. “That’s my tiger, so strong, aren’t you, so eager to do anything I want, and you’re not going to leave me, you’re going to do whatever I say whenever I say because you, tiger, Seb, because you’re _mine_. All _mine_ —”

Nimble fingers danced up Sebastian’s chest, landing on his nipples and the clamps that were such a small point of pain and discomfort that they hadn’t even registered on Sebastian’s scale yet, until those fingers gripped at them and _pulled_ , twisted and manipulated, and Sebastian gasped again, arching back to thrust onto Jim’s cock, because pain, Sebastian _liked_ pain, and that was almost perfect – but motion pulled on the chains, too, and the lines of the chains that were attached to the mirror pressed against his shoulders. He gaped like a fish, helplessly opening and closing his mouth as if that would help him bring in air, and started to lean back forward, started to pull away from Jim so that he could _breathe_ again, but then Jim gripped Sebastian’s hair and held him back, held him, and Sebastian couldn’t _breathe—_

“Look at yourself, Seb, tiger, can you see yourself in the mirror, just like this, naked, look, you’re even hard, poor dear, it’s going to get neglected, it’s just sitting there flushed and bobbing like a little toy—” Jim’s voice was high, fast, breathy, and Sebastian’s voice might be ragged if he could talk but he _cannot breathe_ – “That’s it, can’t breathe, can you? Not even a little bit, not this far back, and your body wants air, don’t you, but you want my cock, too, _love_ my cock, don’t you, you little whore,” and Sebastian always has wanted Jim, would do anything for Jim, but now he was hitting the moment when an intense pressure began to build in his lungs, his stomach twitching and convulsing, desperately trying to seek some air, and one of Jim’s hands moved to rest above his abdomen, pressed hard against the spasms. “Yes, just like that, shaking apart on my cock, aren’t you?”

Jim let go of Sebastian’s hair and Sebastian fell forward, trying to catch himself before he moved too far forward, before he just continued the choking in a different position. Just then, Jim thrust in, and it felt like a spear, splitting Sebastian, and he went limp in the chains, falling forward, losing the ability to do anything more but twitch and thrash and jerk in his chains like a fish caught on the hook. All careful control had been stripped away, and he felt his eyelashes fluttering closed, weakly trying to push up to get balanced again, but unable to achieve it, and as his vision began to swim he saw in the mirror Jim throw his head back, riding out Sebastian’s tremors and twitches to his completion, heat and wetness and slickness in Sebastian’s arse and Sebastian closed his eyes, felt darkness creep into his vision even as Jim’s hand slid to Sebastian’s cock and pumped it viciously, roughly, making the weights on Sebastian’s balls swing back and forth.

Sebastian felt his orgasm pulled from him even as his mind went dark.

***

When he awoke, he was lying on the floor, all toys removed except for the chains, which lied cool against his throat and chest. His come was smeared over his chest and splatters of it were on the mirror; out of his ass, lube and come and some blood mixed and smeared down his thighs. His throat was bruised, he could see in the mirror as he sat up, and his nipples were reddened and plumped up (they always were; Jim adored nipple torture, and continuously made noises about getting Sebastian’s nipples pierced). Other than that, he was largely on his own, the mirror showing that the room was empty and all toys either hidden or removed entirely. Not uncommon – for Jim, sex was an action that was all about the excitement, the control, and not about any type of emotional connection at all. For Sebastian, sex was a way to connect with Jim, was a way to obey Jim, was a way to fulfill orders that Sebastian wanted to fulfill. On shaking legs, he stood up and moved around the bed to the bathroom, where he found an oil for his ass (he always needed it, because Jim never put enough lubricant in his ass or on his dick) and some concealer for his throat.

Freshly showered and marks concealed, he strode out of the bathroom (naked) to clean up the bits of come on the carpet and mirror. It was new to Jim’s bedroom – it might disappear the next time Sebastian was called over or might become a permanent fixture, and in any case needed cleaning like the carpet. Jim liked things neat, after all.

Done, he moved out of the bedroom to find that Jim was sitting at his desk, various pieces of paper strewed around him, a pen idling in his hand. Jim didn’t say anything, and Sebastian followed suit, moving to his clothes that were still on the armchair seat and unfolding them to put them back on.

When he was still in the process of putting his clothes on – still had his shirt and vest to go – Jim murmured, “Moran.”

Stiffening, Sebastian turned to look at Jim, waiting to see whether Jim had any directives for him. It could be something as small as getting Jim a cup of tea before Sebastian left, or something as complicated as a new mark and deadline or wearing a cockring and plug until Jim summoned Sebastian again.

“I particularly enjoyed the mirror. I think we’ll be keeping it. On another note, I’d like for you to look into Lestrade’s department, get an in, if you can. If not, I need you to be intimately familiar with Lestrade and his second-in-command, Donavon. When it comes down to it, you’ll need to educate my man on the quickest method to remove Lestrade as you’ll have front row seats for my final act.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Sebastian murmured, pulling the shirt on the rest of the way and picking up the vest.

Jim let his eyes run over Sebastian’s form for a long moment before grinning wolfishly. “Well, then. We’ll experiment more with your ability to strangle yourself later. I’m sure you have something important to get back to.”

And while it was true – after all, Jim had pulled him away from something that had been immediately important – Sebastian still lingered to see if there was anything he could do for Jim, anything at all, before exiting the front room, picking up his keys, and putting on his boots.

“Oh, tiger?”

Sebastian turned around to see Jim lounging against the door frame.

“You did well.”

The rush of pleasure that came from those words was almost sexual in nature, and Sebastian shuddered lightly. Of course, Jim caught that movement, and he grinned.

“Alright then. Off with you. I suppose I’ll see you soon enough.”

Inclining his head, Sebastian finished tying his shoelaces and exited the flat.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so, so sorry if you don't like it.


End file.
